Impatience is not always a BAD thing

Some people chide me for my impatience--I can't just wait things out.  I have to know NOW how the movie or book will end or what's going to happen next in life.  I know that patience is a virtue, but sometimes it is important to listen to your gut and not your head.

I found out I was pregnant way too early last time. I took the test after like 3 days and got a positive. Really, when the ectopic ruptured, I should not have even known I was pregnant yet because it happened the same time I would have gotten my Aunt Flo, and I had no symptoms of the pregnancy between the time I found out and when we lost it. Had that been the case, when I had the cramps and bleeding, I would have thought it was just AF, not something more serious. Then I would have continued to bleed internally, and my situation would have been much worse by the time I actually got to a hospital. But because I listened to my instinct that told me to take the test that morning, when it happened I knew something was wrong and immediately went to the ER. My impatience probably saved my life.

Also, I ate a McD's fliet-o-fish on Friday.  Sorry Lent.  Well, 50% sorry, because at least it was fish.  But I am keeping the other one, promise.

Put the Egg in the Coconut, Knock Elissa Up

We’re officially TTC again. I plan to be as open and honest as I can during this process. Partly because there is healing in writing and sharing—my friends have become great supporters throughout all of this, and some have even taken comfort in my experience as they struggle through trials as well—but mostly because it totally grosses my sister out to have me sharing this sort of thing “on the facebook,” as she said.

There are a lot of emotions surging through me right now. Is it possible to be completed excited and completely terrified at the same time? I think my head is going to explode. Or implode. Some kind of   –ploding is about turn my head into a ball of mush. On the positive side, we are trying again. We are so excited to become parents that we cannot wait to try again. I think what happened last time was that Kurt’s Polish boys got confused and went the wrong direction once they met up with my egglet.  This time, I will make sure that my German genes do what they are best at and oppress the Polish genes and march them into the warm, safe babycradle that is my uterus. What, too soon?

On the negative side is the terror, the raw terror, that something will happen again. I’ve only got one tube left. If I lose that one, our only option will be turning to expensive, invasive IVF. And if the egglet makes it to the basket, that still does not guarantee that something won’t go wrong again. I AM SO SCARED OF LOSING ANOTHER PREGNANCY. There, I said it. Just last night I had my version of a ‘Nam flashback, but my personal hell involved an emergency room and the worst ultrasound tech ever, who left me alone in a room for over 15 minutes without telling me what I already knew, thus forcing me to spend the first 15 minutes mourning my pregnancy completely and totally alone. Not cool, lady. 

In the end, the benefits outweigh the risks. I have two options: try again or never give birth. That’s it. I can either take a deep breath and give it another shot, or I can give up now and never know the joy of carrying and delivering my children. In the end, I cannot NOT have a baby. I cannot let one tragedy scare me off of every trying again. I have to believe that it will turn out okay this time. Despite the deep, dark feelings that try to convince me that I will never be successful at this, that I will only cause myself more heartbreak, I know that I can only forge ahead, and give this another shot.

What can I say, I’m a sucker for misfortune and pain.

Internet Trumps Nature Everytime

So it’s really not a huge secret that K and I both want kids.  Like right now.  So we’re doing what you need to do to have a baby.  [Sidebar: A few friends apparently think we are already pregnant and just hiding it—we aren’t].  As we’ve been doing this for a few months, I’ve noticed that each month the process is really divided into two phases: Booze and No Booze. 

Phase One: Booze

The first part of the month is getting ready for the apparently ONE day I can actually get knocked up.  Seriously, those high school girls on 16 and Pregnant make it look so easy.  But NO.  There are charts and graphs and monitoring that needs to be done to determine the right day for IT.  So I take my temperature every morning, track other symptoms, and generally just wish the weeks would fly by till our next Green Light. 

Let me back up.  Being the OCD Superfreak that I am, I am using a website to track my, um, data.  It’s called fertilityfriend.com, and it purports to help women know the best time to get pregnant.  I think it is just to let control freaks like myself have something to fret about ALL MONTH LONG.  Along with cutting edge science-y things, there is a little stoplight on the page that tells you when to hold em and when to GO.

NO BABY FOR YOU!

It’s like the little stop light at the beginning of Mario Kart.  You just check every day to see when the light turns GREEN OMG GREEN GO GO GO!  K says we should just let Nature take its course.  I say that I am perfectly fine letting Nature take its course, as long as Nature is following my map and please don’t take that ‘shortcut’ you heard about and, oh hell, just let me drive.

This phase is also peppered with my indulging in things like wine a sushi, which I can’t have once we actually starting cooking a kid.  Why do I keep saying “we” like K is gonna be a huge help in the pregnancy department.  It’s “I.”  Once I am pregs, K will be reduced to the role of go-fer when I really need Taco Bell at 3 AM.  I’ve tried to get him to practice this skill, but so far he has not been very helpful.  Apparently he is totally willing to get his pregnant wife food at any time, but the non-pregnant wife can’t even get a milkshake on a Sunday afternoon. 

The second phase (No Booze) is me freaking out every day that I might be pregnant and using aforementioned website to enter ever single ‘symptom’ that I think I am having and seeing how many points those symptoms earn me.  Like once I reach a certain number, I WIN and the prize is a baby.  There are approximately 25 different symptoms listed, and I can convince myself of almost all of them on any given day.  Although K says that I cannot count irritability because I am always irritable.  Then I punch him in the face and click YES.

This is where babies come from

At least it gives me a hobby and keeps me off the streets and out of gangs.